We are young
by Vayalin Whisper
Summary: A collection of stories about the Sherlock characters as toddlers, children and teenagers.
1. Sherlock Holmes

„But how does Santa get into the houses of people who don't have chimneys?", Sherlock asked his nanny. The woman looked slightly overwhelmed.

„He climbs in through the window.", she stammered. Sherlock wasn't convinced.

„But how does he open the windows?", he continued to question her.

„He uses magic.", was the only answer he got. Still unsatisfied Sherlock decided that it was time to ask someone else. Although he was already in his pyjamas he got out of his bed and walked to his fathers office. The young boy knocked three times. Knock. Knock. Knock. He waited for 20 seconds and then he opened the door.

Mr. Holmes was sitting at his desk, carefully studying several documents.

„Father?" There was respect in Sherlock's voice, which was even then a rare phenomen.

„Not now, Sherlock", was the harsh answer the boy got.

„But I-", Sherlock attempted again but was cut off.

„Go ask your mother."

Sheepishly Sherlock closed the door again.

His mother was in the living room, talking to someone on the phone.

„Really, Rebecca? That is simply marvelous! Yes, of course. Have you heard that-"

„Mother?" Sherlock looked at her with big eyes. He had always know how to manipulate people but for some reason his mother seemed to be immune against his charm.

„Not now, darling.", Mrs. Holmes said without even looking at her son.

Sherlock calculated whether it would be worth throwing a temper tantrum but decided against it. Instead he walked upstairs, to Mycroft's room.

Being ten years old, Mycroft felt very grown up. He spent most of his time in his room, studying the newspapers and corresponding with people of international importance. It is understandable that he was considerably annoyed when Sherlock entered his office.

„How many times have I told you to knock before entering?", he scolded his little brother. Sherlock chose to ignore him.

„I have a question.", he said.

„Then ask.", Mycroft responded, resuming to read the newest edition of the Financial Time.

„How does Santa get into the houses of people who don't have chimneys?", Sherlock blurted out. Mycroft sighed and put his newspaper down.

„You see, Santa doesn't exist. I know that our Nanny told you so but she was lying.", he said.

Sherlock's eyes widened. „But who brings our presents then?"

„They are from our relatives. Mummy, Daddy, Auntie Elsie, Grandpa Igor, they all buy the presents in various shops, wrap them and write „From Santa for Sherlock" on them. Then they put them under the Christmas tree."

„But why? It would be so much easier to just tell us the truth.", Sherlock said, looking slightly confused.

„Most adults seem to think that children like stories about fat old men with white beards.", Mycroft answered and turned back to the Financial Times.

„Well, I don't like stories. Stories are boring.", Sherlock said to himself and went back to his room.


	2. Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft was lying on his bed. He felt empty. A bit dizzy too. Mila had said there wasn't anything in the coke. But of course there had been. Mycroft could not remember why he had trusted Mila. Believed every single word she had said.

Looking back he scolded himself for ignoring the signs. It seemed so obvious now. Of course Mila hadn't been interested in Mycroft. She had been interested in his money, or more correctly, his parents' money.

Mycroft had been willing to give in to the illusion that Mila cared for him. Loved him. Love. Mila had used that word a lot. Too much. I love you, she would say. That's lovely. Do you love me? Even when she had mentioned gloves or pullovers she had been talking about love.

In frustration, Mycroft clenched his hands to fists. One of the downsides of being a genius was his extraordinary memory. He was currently reliving the events of the past night over and over and over again.

_"Where's Mycroft?" It was Louise, one of Mila's closest friends. At the mention of his name, Mycroft immediately went closer. The two girls were standing in a corner but he couldn't see them._

_"Dunno. Probably sitting around somewhere, looking like an idiot." Unmistakeably Mila's voice. The two girls giggled. Mycroft wasn't sure what to think of that. Surely they weren't talking about him? Then again, how many boys were dursed with the name Mycroft?_

_"How long are you going to continue playing with him like that?" Louise asked._

_"No much longer. I am planning a big coup next tomorrow. His parents will be away on some sort of business trip and he'll give a speech on something "important". You know how he says it? Impourtaant." More giggling. _

_The speech on renal, endocrine, and hemodynamic effects of human brain natriuretic peptide in normal man. Yes, that was indeed important._

_"Okay, Loo, I better get back to my fattie." Mile grinned walked away, in Mycrofts direction._

_Mycroft quickly hid behind one of the pillars. He had heard enough._

After overhearing that conversation, Mycroft had gone straight home. And here he was, with a head that was buzzing like it was filled with bees. He groaned at the thought of having to hold his speech on the renal, endocrine, and hemodynamic effects of human brain natriuretic peptide in normal man in – he checked his watch- 8 hourse.

Should he confront Mila? No, Mycroft quickly decided against that idea. He wasn't the kind of person that liked to shout at others. But he would make her life a living hell, that was certain. Why, he did have connections to one of the meanest bullies at school...

Although he might not have realised it, Mycroft learned an important lesson that night. Caring is not an advantage.

**Author's Note: Hope you liked that! Which character would you like me to write about next?**


	3. Halloween

Sherlock was bent over a map of the Mayfair area in London. "Bruton Street... Ms. Thompson, maybe Mr. and Mrs. Coulstring? " he said, talking to himself. Mycroft entered his little brother's study room, a stern expression on his face.

"Sherlock, your tutor has informed me that you did not do the assigned homework. Any reason for that?"

"Mycroft, it's Halloween! I have to work out the ideal route. Do you think that Mr. Cooper will give me any candy?" Mycroft sighed. When he had been five years old, he had started to buy his first stocks, heavily investing in the then newly founded Microsoft.

"Mr. Cooper is currently not at home. Surely you have seen the newspaper in front of his doorstep? It has been lying there all day. His car still there though, indicating that he is spending the night at his new girlfriend's place who lives only a few streets further. If I were you, I'd try Ms. Nelmes." Sherlock nodded and adjusted his route slightly to include Ms. Nelmes.

"What are you going to dress up as?" he asked his older brother. Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. "The nanny is sick, she has a cold. Therefore she cannot go trick-or-treating with me. You'll have to fill in for her." Sherlock explained with a smirk on his face.

"I have better things to do than to beg for sweets." Mycroft responded, his voice icy.

"Do you want your little brother to wander the dark streets of London all on his own? Think of all the things that could happen. I could get raped. Or suffocated. Or stabbed. Or put on drugs. Or they could throw me in the Thames. Or-" His eyes gleamed as he described the different possibilities but he was interrupted by Mycroft.

"I will accompany you. Do you... err... have a costume for me?"

"Well, you can have my eye-patch! Come on, let's get ready." Minutes later Sherlock was wearing his pirate costume and Mycroft was wearing an eye-patch. The little boy grabbed the map and put it into his pumpkin shaped bucket. Then the two brothers walked into the night.

It was chilly outside and Mycroft shivered under his thin pullover. Sherlock seemed to be immune against the cold. Mycroft already regretted going with his brother."Why do you even want to go trick-or-treating? Mummy can give you all the sweets you want!" he asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm not doing this for the sweets, stupid. I am doing this to practice my manipulative skills. Additionally I want to test my hypothesis that people are more generou when they have recently lost a friend or family member." Mycroft figured that it was best not to argue with him.

They arrived at Mrs. Baker's house. "Time to test my theory. Her husband died a week ago." Sherlock said eagerly. His older brother had to ring the doorbell for him as Sherlock was too short to reach it.

When Mrs. Baker opened the door, Sherlock smiled childishly and said :"Trick or Treat!". A smile flickered over the old woman's face and she went to her kitchen to get a bar of chocolate for both of the boys. Sherlock thanked her, lisping slightly. Once she had closed the door behind them the naïve expression vanished from his face and he took out notebook and pencil. "Bar of chocolate" he scrawled behind Mrs. Baker's name.

Then he turned around to Mycroft, who had started to eat his bar of chocolate. "You can eat that later. We have tight schedule." Both Madame Azeem and Mr. El-Hachid gave them lollipops and various other sweets. Sherlock made notes of of it all.

"Tom Embley is next. None of his friends died recently, as far as I know. He is not a very generous man, posing a challenge for me." he then said to Mycroft.

Mr. Embley was indeed not a very polite man. After opening the door and seeing the two boys dressed as pirates, he immediately shut it again. Sherlock immediately started to cry, prompting the man to open the door again. "Mister Embley, I need to pee!" Sherlock whined.

"Go pee behind the bushes. Or just go home. No idea what kiddies like you have to do 'ere anyway." Mr. Embley grumbled.

"But I have to pee now. I don't think I can make it to the bushes. I might pee in front of your house!" Sherlock continued. The man sighed.

"First door on the left. Don't make a mess."

"I won't!" the little boy promised.

"I'll wait here." Mycroft said when Mr. Embley threw a questioning glance at him. He hoped that Sherlock would hurry up, otherwise he might end up getting hypothermia. Sherlock came back several minutes later, casually dropping his bag with sweets. Several bars of chocolate, lollipops and other sweets spilled out.

"Oops." he said, smiling apologetically. He took his time picking it up and when he finished Mr. Embely was holding two small bags of crisps.

"Happy Halloween. And now, get out." Ms. Thompson lived right across the street from Mr. Embley and it didn't take the two brothers long to get to her house.

"One of her friends died recently." Sherlock explained as he knocked. A young woman with a serious face opened the door.

"Trick or treat!" Sherlock smiled, holding his pumpkin bucket in front of him. Ms. Thompson blinked, then she burst out into tears.

"Fuck you little kids. I've got other things on my mind!" she yelled and slammed the door. Sherlock looked rather impressed and made a note of her behaviour.

"Seems my hypothesis only applies to elderly people. I still have to collect more evidence though. Sadly there have not been many recent deaths in the social networks of the residents here. I'll have to continue this investigation next year." he said to his brother.

"Could we go home? It's freezing out here!" Mycroft whined, ignoring Sherlock.

"No, we still have to go to Mr. and Mrs. Coulsting and Ms. Nelmes."

The rest of their Halloween tour stayed rather uneventful and when they finally came home, much to Mycroft's pleasure, Sherlock's pumpkin bucket was full to the brim. The aspiring pirate noticed his brother's greedy glance at the sweets. "You can have them!" he said and this time his smile was genuine.

**You can find an illustration here: art/Sherlock-and-Mycroft-Halloween-335334347?ga_submit=10%3A1351706713**


End file.
